


WolfHeart

by RainbowDoom



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dorian is still gay guys I promise, F/F, F/M, Lavellan's Daughter, M/M, Past Lavellan/Solas, Ratings might change, post Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-05 21:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16375661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowDoom/pseuds/RainbowDoom
Summary: Years after the end of Tresspaser, Mi'Revas Pavus is an enchanter in the Minrathous Circle. She plots to be declared the next Archon of Tevinter. Meanwhile, a slave rebellion brews in the heart of the imperium. The Inquisition stands desperately trying to stop the brewing war between Orlais and Freledan, and a wolf haunts Mi'Revas' dreams.





	1. The Harrowing

_The story of Woflheart the first elven Archon of Tevinter is so twisted up in myth and legend that it’s unsurprising that for centuries she was believed to be nothing more than a myth herself. It was only after the discovery of the ruins of Kirkwall in E:76 that historians realised the works of Varric Tethras were not the fantastical and groundbreaking works of fiction that Thedosian Literary critics held them up as, but actual historical records. Soon after anthropologists, historians and archaeologists hunted down as many secondary sources of the heroes of Tethras’s histories as they could find. From Inquisitor Lavellan to_ Swords and Shields _’ Knight-Captain (Real name Aveline Dennet, the infamous Knight Captain of Kirkwall. She is even featured under her real name in Tethras’s_ Tales of a Champion. _Though why Tethras decided to write an explicit memoir of a woman he professed to be terrified of is still a hotly debated subject today)._

_However, even then Wolfheart was still commonly believed to be a fantasy of the historian written in his ailing years. And it is difficult to find fault with these assumptions, as fantastical as the records Tethras kept are, they can be confirmed with official records from what remained after the burning of Val Royeaux in 10:78 Veil (estimated to be ~500:X). None of which are quite so fantastical as a war with the old elvhen gods. With no other record of Wolfheart’s existence there was no other conclusion to be made. It was only in F:114 when Brialla Grett managed to break the blood seal on Magister Verres’, known colloquially as the Tevinter Tempest the first dragon tamer, diary that we learned that Wolfheart was a real person. Wolfheart or Fen’vhenan, as her followers called her, was in fact Archon Mira Pavus (The second Archon Pavus’s first name was in fact Mi’Revas. Elvhen for freedom’s blade. Though it is possible she chose to humanize her name upon becoming archon, it is far more likely that the historians of Tevinter did it for her. And ultimately the reason she was believed to be human herself for centuries.) With the knowledge of Wolfheart’s true name we can now pick out her true story from the legend she has become._

_-_ Excerpt from the introduction of Garrett Redcliffe’s _Wolfheart: The True Story of_

_Freedom’s Blade_

 

_History might remember otherwise, but there was no truer friend amongst the Inquisition to Rinalla Lavellan then Altus Dorian Pavus. We had known Sparkler less than a month when the two ventured forth into that nightmare future, but when they came back a bond had forged. Time only made it stronger. Nothing from the one violent spat in which Sparkler was forced to face the true horror of slavery, or their own personal quests to save their people could turn them against each other. Wherever the Inquisitor went, her Tevinter followed. That didn’t mean he was quiet about it._

_“Mountains. Cold. Let’s bring Dorian!”_

_The Inquisitor giggled, “Don’t worry Dorian, I know how to keep you warm.”_

-Excerpt from _Here Lies the Abyss: The Inquisitor Lavellan Story_ by Varric 

Tethras

 

Mi’Revas was having the dream again. She’d been having it off and on for the last three months as her Harrowing approached. It started with her climbing the stairs of the tower at the Minrathous Circle, but when she reached the ceremony room at the top the door opened instead to reveal the Archon’s throne room. Instead of her Harrowing robes, Mi’Revas is instead fully armored. When she reaches the dais at the far side of the room she finds her mother’s throne atop it. Except the flames that burn the metal cast of Andraste aren’t gold, but veilfire. Mi’Revas sits on the throne and Aunt Josie appears beside her to call forth the prisoner to be judged. Except this time it isn’t Aunt Josie who is beside her, but Uncle Cullen. He’s wearing his lion helmet and the metal relief of the mane blends seamlessly into the fur of his mantle and seems to ripple in an invisible breeze.

The hall, usually filled with Tevinter noble’s wearing Orlesian masks is instead filled with armored elves half with painted faces and half wearing masks. Except the paint and masks bear the faces of animals not people, so that the crowd appears to be filled with halla, and rabbits and the like sporting the bodies of elves. Though behind the extravagant masks and colorful paints their pointed ears are clearly visible and almost comically large. Mi’Revas shifts nervously. Dreams often change on a dime, and nothing about this particular dream is odd. Or odder than her dreams normally are. It’s only that the anxiety dream had been terribly consistent for a while now, and the sudden changes made her nervous.

The spirits creating the dream must pick up on her nerves, because the crowd in the hall begins to whisper and titter among themselves. The spirit playing the part of Uncle Cullen turns to smile at her. It’s not Uncle Cullen’s wry twist of the lips he gives when she beats him at chess, but a large toothy thing that looks wrong on the former commander’s face. Before Mi’Revas can even attempt to muster a smile in the face of its wrongness the spirit turns back to the hall.

“Bring in the Prisoner” Uncle Cullen booms. The voice, at least  is a good mimic.

The doors of the throne room open, beyond them is only the night sky, but when they close two large ravens with the heads of elves drag forward a man in chains. This is different too. Usually the dream features two Templars wearing her mother’s face dragging forth a woman who is revealed to be Mi’Revas herself. When the raven-elves deposit the man at Mi’Revas’ feet he turns to look up at her. It takes her a second to recognize his face, because it’s younger than she is used to. But the realisation is more rattling then any of the dream’s other changes. Before Mi’Revas can do more than gasp, the trial begins. 

“Dorian Pavus, your worship. Accused of apostasy, use of blood magic, and the betrayal of the Inquisition. For the first two charges the only necessary proof is that he is a mage of the Imperium. The third however is the most severe. Dorian Pavus is accused of stealing the thing most precious to the Inquisition, the Inquisitor’s child. He has claimed her as his own and it is a lie. The Herald of Andraste would never lay with a maleficar, let alone bear one an heir. He has plead innocent to all charges. For this he has been sentenced to burn at the stake, as his people once burned the Maker’s Bride.”

The crowd cheers even as Mi’Revas cries out in protest, “NO!”

She tries to stand but chains appear binding her to the throne. The walls of the hall shift and suddenly she sits in a ruined hall of black stone chained to a golden throne. Above them the sky is a foggy green filled with floating islands of stone. Mi’Revas’ father still kneels before her in chains though he looks as he did the day before. His hair longer and eyes lined in kohl dressed in the robes of the Archon. The crowd is still present even in the ruin.

“Thief! Thief!” they chant “Burn him! Child Thief! Maleficar!”

“NO! NO!” Mi’revas cries “Stop! Dad! He IS my father! Tell Them! Dad! Tell Them!”

She has lost control of the dream as it bleeds around her, or maybe that’s just the tears streaming down her face. Her father just stares up at her, his face the impassive mask she recognizes from particularly tedious parties and slave auctions. Suddenly the crowd silences, and Mi’Revas tears her gaze away from her father’s face to see why. The crowd had surged forward to fill the hall and gather before the throne, but now they part. Even the Raven-Elves who had held the crowd back stand aside as a huge black wolf with six red eyes strides through the hall. 

“No.” Says the wolf its voice a deep growl when it reaches the foot of the dias, “You are _my_ daughter. Ma’vhenan. He has lied to you. The Inquisitor has lied to you. You are no half-human Tevinter da’len. Mi’Revas you are mine.”

“Who are you?” Mi’Revas asks even though she fears she already knows the answer.

“I am the Dread Wolf. And I have caught your scent. Wait for me Ma’vhenan. I am coming for you.” 

Then the Dread Wolf  swallows her father whole, and turns jumping over the side of the island into the abyss of the fade. Mi’Revas barely even noticed that the crowd had vanished and the ruins now stand empty. She surges to her feet the chains that held her shattering as she explodes forward to save her father, kill the Wolf or she doesn’t know what. Then her eyes fly open.

She is sitting, panting, a blade at her throat. A man in full plate kneels before her his eyes boring into hers. Mi’Revas stares confusedly at the eye emblazoned on his breastplate until she feels the familiar loss of power from a mana cleanse. Suddenly, she remembers where she is. This is her harrowing. Which she apparently, just successfully completed. Relief surges through her. No wonder the dream had been so weird. The dread wolf had been only a demon testing her. But what type of demon? A despair demon? Mi’Revas is distracted by the Grand Enchanter announcing her success and the gathered crowd applauding. Gathering herself Mi’Revas smiles brightly and stands. She salutes the Grand Enchanter then clapses her forearm before accepting her diploma. She turns back to wave at the gathered enchanters and her fellow students before returning to the crowd to be replaced by the next student.

She doesn’t watch Canus accept the ceremonial blade than present it to one of the Seekers. Instead she finds her father’s face in the crowd, he doesn’t smile at her, but twitches his mustache. Pride surges through Mi’Revas. There had been no doubt that she would pass her Harrowing, she was a Sominari. A dream walker. She didn’t need the draught of lyrium to be conscious in the fade, she was every night. It did, however send her to the location of the demon that had been chosen to test her. Even then the risk was little. Tevinter Harrowings were only a theatrical version of those southern mages went through to complete their apprenticeships. 

In the new southern circles under the direction of Divine Victoria, apprentices spent two years dedicated specifically to defending themselves in the fade against possession. Then they were tested on their knowledge, if they were found satisfactory by the head enchanter of their circle only then could they take their Harrowing. If not they returned to study. Southern Harrowings were meant to be a true test of a mage’s ability to resist temptation. In Tevinter they were just a fancy ceremony for graduation. The true test of the Harrowing was not for the mages, but the Seeker.

Part of Mi’Revas’ father’s reforms had been the slow introduction of seekers into Tevinter.  His own personal guard was made of seekers and templars. Many in Tevinter didn’t like the idea of having a force of soldiers capable of countering magic present, but they’d proven useful in preventing assassinations. The new goal was to have them present in the circles to help minimize potential magical mishaps amongst the apprentices. Though, it was more of another attempt to drive blood magic from the Imperium. And, surprisingly it was working.

Blood magic practice amongst the magisterium of course hadn’t changed. It has though, become incredibly rare amongst the altus’ instead. The fashion amongst the younger nobility had become bare arms covered in bangles. The Rivani jewlery made it more difficult for one to cut into their arms for blood, without covering up any actual scars that may be present. The fashion had arose as a result of the seekers’ presence making it easier to test higher spells without fear of the fallout. Allowing less skilled apprentices to slowly learn difficult spells without having to open a vein to gather sufficient power.

It also meant that seekers were being heavily bribed to spot apprentices’ ill advised magical experiments. Which had led to many breakthrough discoveries, and many more scorched tapestries. The older generation did not like having the seekers present in the circle fearing that it was the first step in their becoming like the prisons they were in the south. Though the southern circles were hardly the prisons they once were, but they did still treat magic as if it were somehow inherently evil.

This Harrowing was to demonstrate that the seekers were harmless, and more for show and the safety of the magister’s children. The seeker’s cleanse to check for possession was just as theatrical as the blade held to the graduate's neck. No one was ever possessed at these things. They were more of a reason to gloat over Tevinter superiority than anything else. The Seeker was just another aspect of that. Or that’s how this new harrowing was designed. That’s why Mi’Revas had gone first. It was stated to be her honor as the Archon’s daughter, but it was simply a show of strength. The Archon did not fear losing his heir to a seeker, or a blade anymore than he did to a demon. She passed unscathed, so the others could do no less. 

The rest of the Ceremony passed uneventfully. The time of the trials varied between students, but none lasted more than three minutes. Still, it went on for hours. Eventually the Grand Enchanter gave a long speech about the pursuit of knowledge and duty to the glory of the Imperium.Than Mi’Revas’ father gave a much shorter speech about the glory of the Imperium being in the future not the past. It included a few pointed gestures with his noticeably bare arms decorated not with the bangles of the youth, but gold bands about the bicep. The Archon was the only adult in the chamber sporting bare arms.

Finally, the restless new enchanters were dismissed to join the party that had been prepared in the circle’s banquet hall. The graduates surged to their feet and hurried out the door and down the stairs. Mi’Revas let their adulation carry her along. She exchanged polite congratulations with a few of them as they hurried down the long staircase. Most were second or third children who wouldn’t inherit their parents’ seats in the magisterium. A noticeable few were those whose positions were weakening. Eventually, she found her best friend Varia Tilani in the crowd. The two girls exchanged hugs. Varia began to describe the sloth demon she had met who didn’t at all seem interested in attempting to possess her and wasn’t that just terribly insulting. Varia was a perfectly acceptable vessel, any demon should be thankful to have the chance at tempting her. What did that sloth think it was? Turning down a chance at possessing her? Honestly, it could have at least pretended to try. Mi’Revas listened to her friends dramatics adding all the right sympathetic noises while stifling her laughter.

Varia was the adopted daughter of Magister Maevaris Tilani. The two had met as small children due to their parents’ close friendship and strong alliance. If they hadn’t been both female, Varia was convinced they would’ve been betrothed. Mi’Revas’ father had promised not to force an engagement on her, but Varia wasn’t so fortunate. Varia was already all but engaged to Primus Nero. A complete prick whose father nonetheless held the majority of trading charters with the dwarves and therefore controlled the majority of the Imperium’s lyrium supply. Which made him the heir to the richest family in the Imperium. The only reason they weren’t actually engaged was that Magister Nero still held out hope he could convince the Archon to appoint Primus as heir and thus engage him to Mi’Revas.

“So, what demon did you get?” Varia asked as she snatched two glasses of champagne from a passing servant.

“Huh?” Mi’Revas said not having expected to actively participate in the conversation for a while yet, “ Oh. Despair. I think.”

Varia’s brow furrowed, “You think?”

“Hey could I get some champagne? Oh! It’s Pavus. Sorry I mistook you for a slave. My mistake.” Marcus Abito said as he deposited his empty champagne flute on a tray full of cut pineapple.

Mi’Revas smiled showing her teeth. She knew Abito hadn’t mistaken her for one of the slaves. He would never be so polite to one. Abito had spent the majority of their acquaintance pointing out Mi’Revas heritage at every opportunity. He used to straight up call Varia slave. As the girl had been one, before she’d come into her magic. Technically, Varia should be a member of the Laetans. Magister Tilani had however recognised the power in her instantly and had bought, freed then adopted her. Varia still had parents out there somewhere in slavery, but she never spoke of them.

“It’s understandable Abito your vision is failing already, all that inbreeding can have terrible effects on the body. Perhaps you could purchase one of those fancy eye magnifiers from the dwarves. It might help you tell the difference between gold silk and white linen.”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed at her.

“Oh don’t squint, you’ll ruin your pretty face. Oh never mind to late”, Varia added. 

“I can see pointed ears just fine. I hope you enjoy this moment. It’s the last time you’ll be equal to me. No one will ever let an _elf_ into the magisterium. Daughter of the Archon or not.”

For a terrible horrible moment Mi’Revas recalls the demon in her dream the one claiming her to be a proper elf and not the halfling she was. Then she recalled that being half-elf still made her an elf in the eyes of the Imperium. Especially, since her heritage showed so clearly. Her pointed ears, large eyes, and waifish figure had been a point of ridicule throughout Mi’Revas life. Once when the teasing had gotten particularly bad, her father had curled up with her in bed. He told her quietly of how the Fereldan king was in fact half elf. That his mother had been the leader of the mage rebellion no less. The only difference between her and King Alistair was that her heritage showed, but because of that she could be so much greater. Mi’Revas after all was the daughter of Inquisitor Lavellan, the Herald of Andraste. Impossible her father had told her from the safety of the bed wasn’t a word in her vocabulary. She would follow her mother to greatness and would accomplish whatever she set her mind too. The other children were only jealous, because they pretended at greatness. Mi’Revas was a true miracle.  

With her father’s promises in mind Mi’Revas smiled “It’s terribly good I have no plans on joining the Magisterium then isn't it?”

Varia gasped beside her. Several nearby conversations abruptly halted. The area within earshot of the three of them fell silent, not even bothering to pretend to be uninterested in their conversation. Mi’Revas wondered how many had caught the true implication of her statement. Judging by the look on Marcus’s face he hadn’t. He looked shocked, but victorious. Clearly, interpreting her admission as a sign of defeat. The truth was that Mi’Revas grandfather had no other heirs than herself. Magister Pavus had anticipated one of his grandchildren taking his seat from long before Mi’Revas had been born. Her father had always been intended for Archon. Even if it had seemed temporarily impossible, when he’d first run off and joined the Inquisition. Then, the Inquisition had been an upstart heretical southern order. Now, It was the true seat of power in the south. Outstripping even the white divine, who owed her position to Inquisitor Lavellan. Mi’Revas knew it was her mother’s power not her father’s that allowed her to stand in the banquet hall of the minrathous circle. 

“Someone finally learned their place. Perhaps this harrowing wasn’t a complete waste after all.”  Triumph rang in Marcus’s voice.

“Glad to hear you say so.” Marcus jumped as the Archon materialized behind him. “It’s always nice to have the support of one’s friends when pursuing ambitious goals.”

The last part was in fact a reprimand to Mi’Revas. Her father might not oppose her decision, but he definitely opposed the manner in which she announced it, and that she hadn’t discussed it with him beforehand. He would never ever contradict her in public though. Despite her parents’ power Mi’Revas’ position was a tenious one. The Magesterium was waiting for an excuse to discredit her. If they caught even the whisper of a hint of a rumor that the Archon no longer fully supported her they’d dig their teeth in. Mi’Revas had to tread softly, and instead she had strode.

Father gave Mi’Revas a look that said they’d be discussing this later before he elegantly distracted Marcus and swept him back off into the crowd. Mi’Revas watched as eyes turned away from them to other distractions. VAria grabbed at her bicep and pulled guiding her backwards to the edge of the room. When they were hidden in the shadow of a pillar and a potted plant she turned on Mi’Revas.

“What in Andraste’s name do you think your doing? Archon? Really? Your mad. You’ll never be elected. You could’ve gotten into the Magisterium done some actual good. Now when you fail you’ll be a laughing stock and even if they let you take the Pavus seat you’ll never have any real power.”

“Varia. Calm down.” Mi’Revas ran her hands down her friends arms in a soothing gesture.

“I will _not_ calm down. I’ve thrown my lot in with your and now you’ve gone and squandered it. Maker, Mira. Now I’ll have to marry Primus. I’ll need his backing to get anywhere. Lyrium talks even when people rather wouldn’t. Fuck. We might be able to use Marcus, so long as he still hasn’t figured it out. Show a little humility and his tongue will wag. Do you think Primus will be alright with announcing at my birthday party next month? Or is that too gouche?”

“So you’ll help?”

Varia glared at her, “Yes. Though I would’ve appreciated a heads up. “

“Good. Then stop worrying about the Magesterium vote, that step four.”

“What’s step one?”

“Step one is the Inquisition.”

Varia’s eyes narrowed.

“Come by tomorrow for lunch, for now enjoy the party. FInd out what people think about my little announcement.”

“It better be a good plan.” Varia grumbled as they came out into the party proper she grabbed two flutes of champagne and downed one.

“Oh it is.” Mi’Revas sipped at her flute before turning to the new graduate next to her and smiling.

 


	2. A Visitor in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mi'Reavas wakes in the night to find someone sneaking into the manor

_I don’t know what we were expecting but the elf standing at the top of the stairs to the alienage was not it. Tall for an elf with stark white hair over green eyes, black spiky armor that did nothing to hide the curling white tattoos that twisted around the elf’s skin. Though his tone was calm and measured there was a fierceness in the way he moved that spoke of eminent danger. Trouble, I thought more trouble, as the elf stalked towards the remaining slaver._

_I was proven right when he burst suddenly into blue light and shoved his hand straight into the man’s chest and tore out his heart. The elf crushed it in his hands and the blood spattered across his face as the blue light faded. I turned to Hawke to see what to do next, if we should attack or hear the elf out. I’ll admit I was terrified, I’d never seen a man’s heart ripped out of his chest before. That first time in the alienage it was horrific, and I thought I would see something of that fear or horror on Hawke’s face. I should’ve known better._  
_Hawke had the face of a lyrium addict who’d just gotten that first dose after a long dry spell. I knew right then and there that we were screwed. Trouble I’d thought, but of course Hawke loves trouble._  
-Excerpt from “Bait and Switch” Chapter 5 of Varric Tethras’ _Tale of the Champion_

Mi’Revas had the dream again it played out almost identical to the previous one at her harrowing. The wolf is less scary this time, and shapeless around the edges. Still Mi’Revas wakes screaming reaching for her father. The dream leaves her shaken, she has no Harrowing to distract her from the creepiness of the dream. Of the niggling doubt that the wolf might be right. It was ridiculous of course just the usual trick of demons, but she couldn’t shake it.

Sitting up in bed alone her room illuminated only by the moonlight drifting in through the windows the fear crept up on her. She rubbed a nervous hand across the tip of one pointed ear and wondered. Then annoyed with herself she burst out of bed, she was being ridiculous. It was just a dream, just a demon’s tricks playing with her insecurities. Mi’Revas would not fall victim to a demon, she was stronger than that. She needed a distraction. She dressed quickly in the dark and determined decided she would find a book and read. Varia would be here for breakfast anyways. Determined she strode from her room and down the grand stairs in the front of the manor.

Mi’Revas paused at the landing and stared at the portrait of her mother that hung there. The portrait was ten feet tall and one of two of her mother in the palace. This one was the one meant for guests to see. It was a bust portrait and showed her mother’s face not quite in profile. Her ears were far more striking from the angle making it impossible to ignore that she was an elf. The dark green lines of her vallaslin stark against her dark skin, curled elegantly up her cheekbones and across her forehead. Her dark hair was mostly loose just pinned slightly to keep it from covering her ears, and cascaded down her back in waves. Her mother was beautiful in the portrait, the painter had done an incredible job. Her green eyes were fierce where they bored out of the painting. Making it feel like she was challenging any who looked at her.

In reality Rinalla Lavellan always looked tired. She had borne the weight of the world in her youth, and still bore some of that weight today. A scar lashed across her nose, from her final battle with the ancient darkspawn magister who called himself Corypheus. When Mi’Revas pictured her mother it wasn’t the beautiful fierce maiden of the portrait that she saw. It was the tired warrior who nonetheless always seemed slightly amused. Mi’Revas had once overheard Aunt Leliana comment on how Mi’Revas’s father always seemed to make the Inquisitor smile, even when no one else could. Despite the fact that her parents lived so far apart, Mi’Revas never doubted that they loved each other. Mother’s greeting for Father paled only to her greeting to Mi’Revas when the two arrived in Skyhold for their yearly visit.

The second portrait was perhaps truer to her mother than this one. The second one hung in Father’s office and featured her mother in her battle robes. Her arm with the glowing anchor held aloft. Her other hand gripping her staff in preparation to fight. In that portrait her mother’s face was streaked with grime, but determined. The second portrait showed Inquisitor Lavellan the warrior. It was the warrior who Father loved, he’d followed her all over southern Thedas first to help close the breach, then to stop Corypheus. Then Mi’Revas had been born. It was only after the Qunari attack of the Exalted Council, that they had separated. The Inquisition was a target and it wasn’t safe for little Mi’Revas. Unfortunately, Tevinter wasn’t safe for her mother either.

The Imperium respected the might of the Inquisition, but they didn’t even pretend not to despise its connection to the southern chantry or the fact that its leader was an elf. Many in the Imperium would pay good gold for the Inquisitor's head. That didn’t mean they weren’t aware of the army she led or the one she could raise if she so desired. That a word from the Inquisitor could have the southern chantry declaring another Exalted March against the Imperium. It was her mother’s power that allowed Mi’Revas her position in Tevinter. Never before had an elf been raised to the status of Altus. If she had been the daughter of anyone less than the Inquisitor she would only be a Laetan. Powerful sominari and daughter of the Archon or not. Mi’Revas wondered how much she truly paled in comparison to her mother.

Sometimes when she was little she would talk to the portrait. Telling her mother about her day, dumb theories about magic. She’d done that for years before Dad had found her curled up in front of it one night. Mi’Revas had been embarrassed to tell him what she’d been doing. It hadn’t helped when Father’s response had been to laugh. She’d gone from embarrassed to mad when she discovered the reason he’d been laughing. Father had produced a purple crystal from beneath his shirt and explained that it allowed him to talk to Mother directly. Father had apologised for not sharing it earlier, and Mi’Revas was given permission to ask to use it whenever she wanted. Though there was no guarantee her mother would be able to respond. Sometimes she still talked to it though. Only when she didn’t really want Mother to respond, when she just needed to vent.

Mi’Revas placed a hand on the portrait running a finger down the line of her mother’s neck. She opened her mouth to tell Mother about the dream, when the door banged open. The front hall lay before her mostly in shadows except for the light streaming in from the high windows and the now open door. Through it Mi’Revas could make out two shadowy figures entering the palace. She wondered if she should hide or attack, she looked around but the landing was empty. If she wished to hide she’d have to go back up the stairs and step into the beams of light coming in through the windows. The landing was meant to be illuminated by the chandelier, and was currently draped in shadow. Before Mi’Revas could make a decision a light flared up igniting some of the torches in the entryway. The light revealed the two figures to be Father and a tall elf with snow white hair. The two were whispering to each other loudly.

Father’s hands flashed through the air angry and pointed. Whatever they were discussing he didn’t like it. The elf on the other hand was unnaturally still. Mi’Revas began to creep quietly closer in the hopes of overhearing. She was halfway down the staircase and crouched down when suddenly the elf burst into movement. He slammed Father against the wall the elf’s hand tight around his neck. Mi’Revas didn’t think. Before the elf had even gotten Father all the way to the wall she was drawing power from the fade. Seconds after Father’s back hit the wall a fist of force slammed into the elf sending him sprawling across the hall floor. Mi’Revas was already running moving to stand in front of her father. The elf surprisingly burst into a blue light highlighting the stark white of his hair.

“Stop.” said the Archon though he didn’t raise his voice it still seemed to echo in the hall.

The strange elf froze in his advance on Mi’Revas, but the blue glow stayed. She could see now that it originated from the strange white tattoos that ran across his body. Mi’Revas glared at him even as his appearance sparked something in her memory. It was on the tip of her tongue. Then Father’s hand was falling heavy on her shoulder and pulling her back, so she no longer stood between the two men. Mi’Revas resisted the pull slightly, causing Father to huff a sigh.

“Enough. Mira darling I’m fine, let go of the spell. Fenris stop glowing.” Neither elf obeyed another sigh, “Fine.” the Archon let go his daughter’s shoulder and strode out between them, “Fenris this is my daughter Mi’Revas. Mi’Revas this is Fenris, Varric’s friend.”

Finally, Mi’Revas memory clicked. Broody, the elf was Broody. Which actually explained a lot. The secrecy of coming in quietly and alone in the middle of the night. Even the fight made sense, given what Varric had told her of Fenris. Any interaction between the elf and her father would ultimately end in violence. Her father was endlessly charming, but charming by Tevene standards, exactly the kind of thing to piss off a man who made his name slaughtering slavers. With that in mind she released her hold on her magic and fell out of her casting stance. She should probably apologize, but Fenris had slammed her father into a wall by the throat.

A moment passed silent and tense, and then Fenris stopped glowing and stood up straight again. He eyed Mi’Revas curiously.

“You are an elf” Fenris commented.

Mi’Revas opened her mouth to correct him; that she was a half-elf. The words didn’t come. The dream fresh in her mind. Thankfully, before anyone noticed that she was standing there silently with her mouth open Father was speaking again.

“How, do you not know this? You're supposed to be a spy. Yet, you don’t even know my daughter is an elf honestly.”

Father’s tone was surprisingly amicable. He didn’t seem at all bothered that he’d been shoved against a wall by the neck less than a minute ago.

“She’s supposed to be half-elf. Half-elves always look human. They never have ears like that.”

Mi’Revas resisted the urge to touch her ears only by virtue of years of practice. She’d been suffering comments on her ears and their pointed shape as long as she could speak. It was always the first target people went for when they were trying to throw her off balance or cutting to hurt. Over the years the jokes and jabs had become a daily annoyance, rather than remotely offensive or harmful. Those jabs always came from humans though. Hearing a comment about it from an elf, was different somehow. Or maybe it was the dream still festering in the back of her mind. The comment about half-elves not usually being so elfy wasn’t new either, though usually it was followed with insults on the Pavus’s bloodline.

“Besides I’ve heard rumors about you Pavus. About the real reason you left Tevinter all those years ago.”

The words were a challenge, clearly. They hit home. Mi’Revas watched the lines of Father’s body stiffen. Not for the first time, Mi’Revas wondered why Father had gone south. He’d fed her all sorts of pretty lies over the years, but none of them adequately explained why he would never step into the Pavus manor. Why every time he and Grandfather spoke there was venom in her father’s voice. The rumors claimed that Magister Pavus disapproved of his son's choice in lovers, but Mi’Revas had trouble believing that. Grandfather adored her. Had attempted to spoil her rotten as a child. Though Father might never enter, Mi’Revas was always welcome in the Pavus Manor. Mi’Revas had tried asking everyone even Grandfather who had just sighed and rubbed his nose, saying that he didn’t blame Dorian for hating him. Which had only made her more curious. Yet the answer had eluded her.

“She is my daughter.” Father replied venom in his voice, “her appearance is irrelevant.”

Mi’Revas was comforted by the force behind those words. They chased the last of the niggling fear the dream had left behind away. She was the daughter of Dorian Pavus. Not some old elvhen god, that was just demons messing with her. Despite this, she hoped Fenris would retort, revealing what he’d been hinting at earlier, but he only hummed in response.

This satisfied Father who turned his back on Fenris to face Mi’Revas, “Mira darling, I’m sorry to have scared you. Everything is alright, Fenris is a friend he won’t hurt me” at Mi’Revas’s raised eyebrow he chuckled, “Not much. Believe it or not I kind of deserved that. I said something I shouldn’t have. Everything's alright go back to bed.”

Mi’Revas was being dismissed. She recognized the tone in his voice. _The Adults are talking now, children should leave._ Mi’Revas wasn’t a child anymore, though. She was a proper enchanter of the Minrathous circle. She could attend balls, and soirees and go to the theater alone if she wanted. Besides, if she was to become Archon she needed to know what was going on. Mi’Revas straightened her spine and lifted her chin, “Whatever it is I can help.”

Father’s eyes narrowed, “Mira, darling”

“Don’t.” she cut him off “I’m an adult now. Whatever you’re planning I deserve to know. Besides I can help.”

Father sighed deeply, “How do you expect to do that when you're leaving the Imperium?”  
Mi’Revas tensed, “I-”

“Save your lies. I’m not blind to what happens in my own house. Though why you felt the need to hide it.” Father shook his head, “It is common to travel Thedas after graduation you know. I could’ve planned a tour.”

Mi’Revas quietly cursed her own stupidity. A tour would’ve been a fantastic cover, she wouldn't even have to sneak off to Skyhold. She would be expected to visit it. Father might have even approved. She was so busy trying to be sneaky and clever she didn’t realize that the best way to be sneaky was actually to be loud and obvious. It would attract the attention of the very spies she was looking for. If she was loud in just the right way they’d come to her. She also had no idea how Father had found out so quickly, she hadn’t even explained her plans to Varia.

She had been planning though, mapping out routes, finding places to stay. Looking up laws and the regulations affecting the movement of Tevinter mages through Southern Thedas. That was the tricky bit, the White Divine had reinstated the circles. The mages within those circles were provided more freedoms, and the rules between the circles were more consistent. However mages were still prisoners, they were allowed out of the towers more, but always accompanied by a Templar guard. The Templar order had been reinstated, through the Seekers were more widespread and in far greater control. Mother had not approved of that, there had been fights. Fights which served only to prove the chantry’s independence from the Inquisition despite the divine owing her appointment to the Inquisitor.

“We still could?” Mi’Revas asked placating.  
Father sighed deep and exhausted, “Perhaps, we will discuss this at a more civilized hour.” He rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, “Now, I have a clandestine meeting to return to. Go back to bed.” A pointed look.

Mi’Revas glanced back at Fenris who was watching them eyes narrowed his back carefully to the wall. Knowing who he was, Mi’Revas could guess what the subject of that discussion. Father was openly anti-slavery, and owned none himself. The idea itself had gained little traction in the magisterium, despite his efforts. Most considered his stance more of an eccentricity, acquired by falling in love with a Dalish. Fenris was the most famous escaped slave in Tevinter, whispered retellings of his story spread through the basements of all the grand houses of the Imperium. They were organizing to free slaves, the only question was their planned method. What exactly were their plans? MI’Revas wasn’t going to figure it out by continuing to be obstinate.

“Fine, Varia will be here for breakfast. I will be expecting you to join us.” Mi’Revas turned to Fenris properly, “An honor to finally make your acquaintance Messere.” She bowed her head ever so slightly and dramatically strode back up the grand staircase.

Once up the stairs, Mi’Revas stuck herself neatly into a linen closet and waited. It was stuffy in the closet, and it contained shelves for the linens, so she was forced to curl up on the floor beneath the lowest one. The position was uncomfortable, but hopefully she wouldn’t have to hold it long. Sure enough after only two minutes counted out in her head footsteps strode past. She counted out two more minutes, before quietly nudging the door open. She glanced to check the hallway was clear before quietly making her way down the hall and pressing her ear to the door of her father’s study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not much plot here, mostly an info dump of Mi'Revas relationship with her mother. Plus Fenris. As the tags suggest this will be Fenris/Dorian, but it'll probably be vary background. It depends, I'm debating the merits of writing from Dorian's perspective as well. Some world state info, Vivienne is divine. Mostly so I can have southern circles. The Inquisition was not dissolved, so my Inquisitor is working on routing out those working for Solas, which is why Mi'Revas is in Tevinter. Cassandra is running the Seekers, who do oversee the Templars still. Varric is Viscount of Kirkwall, The Chargers are still working contractually for the Inquisition and everyone else is still with the inquisition in some context. Cole is more human.

**Author's Note:**

> So I think you've guys have probably figured it out, but another reminder that Dorian is still gay in this fic. Just want to clear that up. I'm playing a little fast and loose with the Rules on how to become Archon, so the important stuff is you can''t have served in the magesterium and you are elected by the magesterium. Dorian's dad is still alive, because I want him to be. He'll come up later. Do you guys like my little historian bits? I like the idea that Varric is sort of the Thedas version of Shakespeare with constant debates about his writing, and whether it was fiction or not, or if he actually wrote it all himself. So this story will mostly follow my OC, but there will be cameos from people from all the games. Solas is still plotting to take down the veil, but let's just pretend he had to do some world travelling and magical ritual set up to do it first. Thanks for reading!


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